True Colors
by TrueBloodMiss
Summary: What if Bill hadn't taken Sookie out for dinner at the end of Season 2, but instead revealed his true intentions and colors?  Heroes are Eric and Sookie but Lafayette/Pam/Jason/Bill will also come out to play. Rated M for some dark and steamy scenes.
1. Chapter 1

As soon as she heard the gravel crunch on the driveway, Sookie took a final glance at herself in the (cracked, thanks to the Maenad) bathroom mirror and flung herself down the stairs.

She paused for a little dramatic effect on the porch, giving Bill the benefit of her curves in the expensive lilac dress. Sookie turned a slow, runway model circle before giggling and skipping down the steps to the waiting car.

"I have been looking forward to this all day!" She declared as the dark haired vampire opened the passenger door for her.

"Perfect." He replied, which she took to mean he was pleased with both her and the dress he had purchased. Even though, as usual, his lips didn't really smile.

When the car began to pull away from her house, Sookie looked back over her shoulder briefly and tried not to shudder at the horrific state of her childhood home. Instead, she settled into the seat and willed the little bubbles of excitement she had felt at work to come back to the surface.

"Perfect for what, by the way?" Sookie said, breaking the silence in the car. She noticed suddenly that there were no strange tunes or gurgling sounds coming from the stereo tonight. "You going to tell me where we're going tonight Bill Comption?"

"It's a surprise, Sookie."

"Oh. Well is it a far away surprise?"

"A little."

It seemed vampire Bill was not in the mood for talking, so Sookie gave up trying to ask him and let her imagination roam free. Perhaps dancing was on the cards (although she didn't know if vampires danced), or a fancy restaurant that served both special Tru Bloods and nice French food, like at the hotel in Dallas.

As the silence wore on between them, Sookie began to fidget a little in her seat. The dress might be a lovely shape but it wasn't the most comfortable thing she had ever worn in a car. And for some reason she couldn't quite put her finger on, she felt rather tense with Bill. It was a strange moment when she realised they had hardly spent any 'normal' time alone together since they met – it always involved sex, being rescuing or screaming at each other.

It occurred to Sookie that she might be a little bit scared of Bill, alone and in the middle of a deserted road as they were. She wished she could read his mind, just once.

But she pushed these silly thoughts to the back of her own head and focused on the imagined pleasure ahead. Tonight, none of it mattered. Not the Maenad, not Jessica… She was the fairy princess, the belle of the ball, the damsel… Hold up a sec, Sookie thought. She was going to try _just for one night_, not to be the damsel in distress.

Watching the dark countryside speed past the window (like all vampires, Bill drove too fast) and listening to the rhythm of the wheels on the road, Sookie found the past few days' madness catching up with her – and she drifted off to sleep.

When the car eventually ground to a halt, Sookie jerked awake, realising to her embarrassment that there was drool on her chin and the top of the dress. She hoped she hadn't been snoring.

"We're here?" She asked, now feeling a few nerves as she didn't recognise anything outside. But she told herself it was just the shock of waking suddenly.

In answer, Bill climbed out of the car and came around to help her out too. He took her arm firmly, leading her towards the most beautiful mansion Sookie had ever seen.

"Oh my…" she gasped, her mouth falling wide open.

They walked across a marble bridge that hovered above two little pools sparkling in the moonlight. The door opened before them silently, as if by magic.

Instead of stepping into a lit room, it was like walking out into the bright sunlight. All around frescoes and priceless pieces of art glittered expensively. Diamond chandeliers dripped from the ceiling. Fake windows were imprinted with the views of rolling, sunny countryside. At the centre, a diving pool gave off waves of warm turquoise light. Sookie's mouth would have been even wider if her jaw stretched that far.

She had never seen anything so stunning, nor so decadent.

Bill suddenly spoke in her ear. "The room is not the surprise." She followed his arm, finally seeing what he was pointing towards.

At the edge of the pool, her head tipped back and legs paddling lazily in the water, sat a beautiful girl with blonde pigtails and a red and blue bathing suit. With the sweetheart neckline of the costume and the large red plastic sunglasses shading her eyes, she could have been the perfect 1930s pin-up girl.

But she was more than just a beauty – she was Sookie's cousin, Hadley. The second she recognised her, Sookie screamed out her cousin's name.

At least, she tried to. But in all the shock and excitement, it came out more like a muted squeak. Luckily the soft violin music in the background was quiet enough for Hadley to be able to hear the disturbance anyway, and she pushed back the foolish sunglasses to reward Sookie with a dreamy smile.

Sookie's first thoughts were of how great her cousin looked. When they had been growing up, Hadley had always been the strong, slim one of the pair and Sookie might have been jealous of her, had she not been privy to the demons that fought privately inside Hadley's head. But the last time they had seen each other – when Gran had so generously checked her into rehab on her own dime – 'slim' would have been the last thing word you thought of. She'd looked more like those famine relief ads you see on the telly.

Now, though, Hadley was plump, curvaceous and rosy cheeked, even if she was a little pale – an occupational hazard for those who live with vampires. The outfit was obviously expensive and it suited her perfectly.

But what on earth was she doing here? Thanks to all the surprise, Sookie – although still rooted to the spot – found her telepathy shields had dropped away. The first thing she heard was Hadley, but there weren't any thoughts inside. Instead Hadley was humming softly – was that The Wizard of Oz?

And now that Sookie looked again, she realised that the smile on Hadley's face was rather vacent. Not in the Jason Stackhouse goofy kind of way. She had the look of someone who had had too much glamour and pleasure at the hands of a very skilled vampire.

At that exact moment, Sookie heard two men's thoughts intruding on the scene. But before she could work out what was happening or where they were coming from, one of them cried "Now!"

Sookie wasn't sure if the shout had come from a mind or a mouth, but she did know that two comically large security men with bulging muscles, black suits, white shirts and little plastic radios in their ears were now lifting her off the ground.

They dragged her away, one on each side, whilst Sookie once again cried out for her cousin and wriggled and spit at them like an angry kitten.

She looked back at Bill, amazed that he had not already torn these men apart. But her lover was standing by the doorway, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched and making a great study of his polished shoes.

As if to accentuate just how terrible a situation she now found herself in, Sookie – who never cusses, especially not out loud – screamed just one more time.

_"Jesus fucking Christ Bill Compton!"_


	2. Chapter 2

Apologies for the cliff-hanger but as I'm updating straight away, I hope you won't mind!

This is my first attempt so please read, review and let me know how it sounds! I do most of my thinking when I'm running (I run 10km most days – just in case Alexander Skarsgard moves in across the road!) and I'm aware that things that sound amazing in my head don't always come across as well on paper…

Enjoy

…..

Over in Shreveport, Eric Northman sits behind his desk in a lazy manner, with his long legs apart, blue eyes half-closed and hands resting lightly behind his sleek blonde head.

All in all, it was a curious pose for a 1,000 year old vampire, but the reason soon becomes apparent – a blonde girl is nestled between him and the desk. She looks curiously similar to Sookie – something Eric will later curse his subconscious for – and is currently trying to fit his entire length into her mouth.

Despite the typically impassive look on his face and the languor of his pose, Eric is not, in fact, relaxed or even happy. She's been down there for entirely too long and, even though stamina is something he usually prides himself on, the Viking is now beginning to worry.

When she showed him attention earlier, he bought her swiftly into the back office to seek release and the few moments of silence inside his head which he knows will follow. But now that release isn't forthcoming. As all men know, worrying about it is only going to make it take longer so out of desperation and a little bit of embarrassment, Eric does something he very rarely does.

With lightning speed, he picks up the girl, tears off her denim shorts (another Sookie similarity) and positions her on top of the desk on her back. Getting down on his knees, he licks her thigh roughly with his tongue, making his way into the centre. She instantly jerks with pleasure, clearly as shocked as he is that a powerful vampire is trying to give _her_ pleasure.

Much to his surprise, Eric begins to enjoy himself. The anonymous blonde is convulsing with pleasure as he teases her clit with his tongue and gives it a playful nip. But she isn't screaming, thrashing about and behaving in a way she thinks _he_ expects – it's all very genuine and refreshing.

Just as she's about to reach the peak, Eric pulls away – earning a little whimper of desperation – and then thrusts into her with all his strength. Succumbing to the glorious feeling of him inside her, the blonde comes instantly and as her internal muscles grip him, Eric too sees release on the horizon. A few quick thrusts and he spurts into her, collapsing – rather heavily – on top of the girl and the desk.

Finally, he thinks in triumph. He gives the girl who helped him out a tender lick on the neck, pathetically grateful for how empty his body feels.

Eric's bliss, however, is short-lived. Far from allowing him to stop thinking about pesky Miss Stackhouse, the orgasm only opens him up to the feelings he has been trying to block out since he made her drink his blood in Dallas. Despite the fact that he immensely enjoyed it at the time– not to mention the look on Bill's face– he had since regretted the connection because he couldn't damn well stop thinking about her. She was the one who should be dreaming about _him_. His plan had backfired rather.

So Eric finds that the very thing he was hoping to avoid has hit him square in the chest. But whilst usually he only feels blasts of contradicting emotions from her (she certainly was an enigma that girl), right now it was very different. Bright, physical pain lances through his heart and body. If Eric hadn't already been crushing the girl into the desk, he may well have fallen over. It was a pain he recognised all too easily after Godric's tortuous decision to leave – betrayal.

Instantly, Eric stands and pulls up his pants. The girl is now completely forgotten and left behind, locked in his office (she won't mind, she's sleeping soundly after the force of her orgasm).

Even though he's dressed casually in a sporty zip-up top and tight black jeans, Eric's power and beauty turns heads all over the club as he passes through the dance floor looking for Pam.

One besotted redhead sighs dramatically as he passes, whispering to her friend: "See, he's even more good-looking up close. And double since he cut his hair. He can bite me any day of the week." Her friend nods in agreement and usually Eric might have smirked at the compliment, then stopped and taken both of them – at the same time, naturally – into the back for round two. But the Viking still had only one woman in his head and he was determined to find out what mischief she was up to this time.

Pam is outside doing the job she loathes most – watching the door. In a tight black leather pencil skirt and pink lycra vest, she's doing a sterling job of over-exciting all the customers as they wait in line. But Pam is bored out of her mind and barely suppresses a yawn as she flicks her whip half-heartedly at a couple of barely legal girls beside her. Even though the pretty girls shriek with happiness, Pam can't even bring herself to bare her fangs at them.

The shrieks increase wildly in volume, however, as Eric appears in a blur by her side, earning himself the flash of a dozen camera phones and the swooning moans of fans – much like a TV star on the red carpet. Pam rolls her eyes in a distinctly human gesture.

"Come to take my place?" Pam drawls at him, knowing he hates queue duty as much as she does. But Eric is frowning, not playing, tonight.

"Oh boy," says Pam. "It's not that delectable little Stackhouse girl _again_, is it? Because I would not mind having a little run in with her tonight." She smoothes down her hair sensually.

"Actually," Eric mutters softly, as though afraid others will overhear, "it is Sookie that I'm concerned about. I felt something from her earlier. Something… bad."

"Well pop off and go and find her, then. I'll stay here and mind the club. Even though I might stake myself from boredom before you get back," Pam replies petulantly.

"It's not that simple."

"It never is with this one," she sighs.

"I don't know where she is. I just felt a terrible pain before. And it's still there, which… worries me."

"Oh boy," Pam says once more. "She's done a great job at getting under your skin. You're the one who's supposed to be seducing her, you know."

Eric scowls. "Go to that backwater shack she calls work and seek information on her whereabouts from the shifter."

Pam wrinkles her nose and gives a dramatic shudder. "Alright," she replies. "I'll go to that despicable little town and talk to the smelly shifter. But only if you stay outside and let them stare at you for one hour. Oh, and I'm going to have to take _your_ car."

Pam doesn't imagine he'll ever agree to these demands but to her intense surprise, Eric doesn't even reply. He merely takes the whip with one hand and passes over the keys to his spiffy little car with the other. Sashaying off on her red high heels before he can change his mind, Pam jumps into the corvette and screeches away across the parking lot.

Thanks to her penchant for trying to break both the speed limit and Eric's beloved car, Pam arrives at Merlotte's all too soon for her liking. Now she'll have to go and interact with them all. As she speeds up the driveway, Pam gives another forceful shudder, hoping her maker will feel her disgust.

But a strange scene greets Pam – instead of the usual dark, dull woods around the bar, everything is ablaze with lights and sirens. A crowd has gathered at one side of the lot and she makes her way over there, careful not to be seen and noted as suspicious.

Pam can't see – or smell – the shifter, but she does spot the unmistakable glitter of a gold dress at the edge of the humans – it's Lafayette, and so she decides to enjoy herself a little bit. She creeps up behind him and whispers in his ear, her mouth so close that her breath tickles his neck.

"What's going on, y'all?" She drawls in a fake southern accent.

Lafayette staggers backwards and clutches a heart she knows in now beating wildly. "Bitch, is you trying to give me a heart attack? Damn you, hooker!" he cries.

Pam starts to object, then changes her mind. After all, the slur is right – just a few centuries too late.

"No, merely intrigued."

"Well, I wouldn't think you is going to care about this bullshit, but here goes. That there boy with his brains splattered on the ground is Eggs. My cousin's man, and incidentally the one who been going round cutting out hearts for fun. So then that stupid cop fuck Andy gone and…"

Pam cuts him off. "You're right. I don't care. Sorry I asked."

"So what in the name of Jesus is you doing here, hooker?" Lafayette protests. "I got much on my mind."

"I'm here about a certain blonde waitress who has been ensnaring vampire hearts all over the area, and enquiring about her whereabouts tonight."

"If you mean Sookie…" Lafayette begins.

"Damn, you catch on quick." Pam drawls back at him.

"If you mean Sookie," he repeats, "then she ain't here. She off with that other badass fucker, the one she meant to be in lurve with. Don't know where, how long for or why, before you ask me any of that bullshit. But she got herself all riled up with excitement all day, so I bet you it somewhere fine. Who so interested, anyways?"

"Oh Eric was… interested. He said he felt something bad from her."

"That mean she in trouble?" Lafayette asks, annoyed. It's not that he's a bad friend, just that after one big mess only got cleared up a few hours ago (or didn't, in fact, if you counted a prostrate Eggs in the car park) and he really didn't have the energy for more. "Hang on," he continues, "does that mean Sookie had some of him blood? And if so, can't y'all just find where she is?"

"Well, well," smirks Pam, a look she obviously perfected from Eric, "and how would you know all that about the blood?"

Lafayette shrugs uncomfortably.

"To answer your question," she goes on, "I don't know. It doesn't always work clearly – if there's another vampire involved…. blah blah, vampire stuff, blah blah. You don't want to hear it anymore than I want to hear about human squabbles."

With that, Pam spins on her well-shod heel and goes back to the corvette. As a parting shot, she calls over her shoulder to Lafayette: "If there is trouble, do come call on us and play."

"Yeah right, hooker." Lafayette mutters. "Not in a million years." Then he regrets it – she probably heard that.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi y'all

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed or added me to their favorites/alerts – I'm very flattered :)

A quick reminder: the story's set at the end of season 2, but instead of taking her to dinner, Bill takes Sookie to the queen's palace… I haven't read the books, but characters and storylines from season 3 will show up at some point.

R/R – enjoy!

…..

Because there were no windows in the room, Sookie had no idea how long she had been there. She'd tried to count the hours or visits by the guards at first, but once she had started to doze off into distracted bouts of sleep, time had become impossible to keep track of.

She wanted to guess that it'd been two or three days, hoping that if someone later told her it had been longer, she'd feel buoyed up with hope. But inside her head, Sookie knew she couldn't really focus on 'hope' anymore.

Sookie wasn't just being kept in a dark, damp room – she was chained up inside it. A three-inch thick silver collar was around her neck, attached to a heavy duty silver chain which was in turn attached to the wall. The stains in this horrible place made Sookie realise she wasn't its first resident and the silver restraints hinted that the victims had often been vampires as well as humans.

She shifts from one buttock to the other, as it has now completely gone to sleep and is beginning to tingle painfully. The length and height of the chain doesn't allow her to lie down or stand, just to sit and kneel. But after she tried kneeling for a bit, she decided sitting was the only option – the pain of the hard concrete floor was just too terrible otherwise. Her beautiful lilac dress is now torn and stained with dirt but she's not so bothered – the reason she regrets wearing it now is that the flimsy material gives no cushioning against the floor.

Sookie longs to be able to pace and work off some of the stiffness in her body. Almost worse that her discomfort, though, is the inactivity – she's never been very good at sitting or standing still and it's playing havoc with her mind.

Forced to do nothing but sit, think and doze, her thoughts are a tortured cycle. At first, she was convinced that Bill would come for her – that he would disobey whatever orders he had been following upstairs and tear the guards apart to rescue her. That fantasy had sustained her for a bit, but as the hours dragged on, Sookie realized that it simply wasn't going to happen. Now she was going mad trying to figure out why he had brought her here and why he had suddenly changed from a protective boyfriend into someone who just _stands there_ whilst she was being dragged off to a dungeon. But Sookie doesn't even know where 'here' is. Not a great start.

Instead, Sookie has started to fantasize about what she'll say to him when (if) she sees him again. Perhaps she'll start by cursing the day she met him, she thinks. It's all been a terrible downhill slide from there. Maybe Gran wouldn't have died if she'd stayed away. Her eyes well up with tears. _Fuck you Bill Compton_, she thinks. It makes her feel a tiny bit more comfortable if she repeats it like a mantra over and over in her head.

When she fidgets again, a sharp pain runs up her spine and she gives a strangled yelp. Her voice is too hoarse to be able to cry out properly. She spent too long shouting for help yesterday (at least, she thinks it might have been yesterday) and they haven't bought her any more water yet, so her throat is drier than a marathon runner's.

More than water, though, Sookie desperately wants something to eat. At intervals, an anonymous hand has rolled a bottle of water through the door to her but they haven't given her any food yet. Sookie wanted to see the good side of it at first – all those pesky unwanted pounds would disappear. But now it makes her want to cry even more. She'd rather be fat, happy and free than thin and miserable. She knows not eating is making her very weak, too. She's finding her head feels increasingly heavy and hard to hold up.

A creak comes from the heavy metal door – Sookie looks up, instantly hopeful and – despite her recent bout of cursing him – begs it to be Bill. But a hand simply rolls another bottle of water inside. Although she drinks gratefully, Sookie feels her spirits plunge further. Every time she sees a glimmer of hope and it's taken away again, she falls down deeper into despair.

Now that she's wet her parched throat, Sookie tries shouting again. She shouts for help, for food, for Bill. But no-one comes.

She screws her eyes tight and tries to hear the thoughts of some of the palace residents, but all she hears is silence. Other than a brief glimpse of Hadley and the two guards who grabbed her when she arrived, there's been no-one human around her.

Nothing, nothing, nothing thinks Sookie wildly. What on earth is she going to do?

If anyone in Bon Temps can understand what Sookie's going through, it's Lafayette. Not only has he recently suffered torture and imprisonment at the hands of a vampire, but right now he's in another painful situation that he can't see a way out of it.

The scene in the snazzy living room of his little house very much resembles that of a few days earlier – Mrs Thornton is crying in a corner, he's knocking back tequila shots before midday and Tara is tied to a chair. But instead of tying her up so she can't attack them (back when the Maenad had control), this time she's being restrained so she doesn't hurt herself.

In the early hours of the morning, Lafayette had gotten home, exhausted, from his shift at Merlotte's – only to find more drama than ever inside his house. Mrs Thornton had been banging on the bathroom door screaming. Tara was inside pushing more and more sleeping pills into her mouth. And so Lafayette had had to kick in his own bathroom door, drag his cousin into the living room and handcuff her yet again to the table.

None of them had had any sleep yet. Lafayette had been lecturing for hours whilst Tara cried and her mother prayed to Jesus tearfully without any respite.

The buzz of his cell phone interrupts Lafayette's latest rant and he looks down at the display, cursing softly when he sees the number. The caller has rung more than 10 times already today.

But Lafayette answers it anyway.

"What's up hooker? I told you last time, I don't know anything else."

Jason's voice on the other end of the line is just a distraught mumble.

Lafayette sighs. "Brother, how can I know more when I ain't even left the house since your last call? I told you, I is all in caught up keeping my idiot cousin tied to the table."

"I know," comes the reply. "I just thought that since y'all were the one the vamps talked to the night she disappeared that you'd be the one they call again."

Lafayette doesn't bother with a glass this time – he takes a swig of tequila straight from the bottle. "That's probably right. But let me ask you one thing, what time is it right now?"

"I guess 11.40," says Jason. "Why?"

"Is that 11.40 at night?"

"No. In the morning."

"That's right, bitch. There is motherfucking sunlight outside. You think a vamp is going to call me right now?"

"Oh," Jason replies, realizing his mistake. "I guess that's right. Didn't think of it like that."

Lafayette suddenly feels guilty. He can hear the pain in Jason's voice and he's all too aware right now how awful it is having to worry so much about your family.

"Listen," Lafayette says, gentler now, "have you spoken to Kenya again? It's been more than 48 hours now. She can do that missing persons thing for you."

"Yeah. I done it. But I don't know what else to do now, man."

To Lafayette's horror, he can hear Jason crying on the other end of the phone now.

"Man, Lafayette, I don't know what to do now. First Gran, then Amy… Sookie is all I got left and now she's missing too."

Lafayette steals himself. He knows what he's got to suggest, but he _really_ doesn't want to do it.

"Okay." Lafayette takes a deep breath. "I got one idea. We can go see Eric Northman at Fangtasia. He's the Sheriff of the area, whatever that means, and he gotta look out for Bill anyway. Seeing as no-one's seen him since that night either, I reckon the vamps is the best chance we have of finding answers."

There's a pause at the other end of the line. "Really?" Jason asks at last. "Eric is pretty, well, you know…"

"Terrifying?" finishes Lafayette. "I do know. Better than y'all think. I hates that motherfucker. But I think we have to. Come by mine at 7 tonight. We'll go together."

Lafayette waits for Jason's reply, than hangs up with a click. He mutters to himself, takes another swig of tequila and turns back to Tara.

"Now, bitch," he says wearily. "What was I saying?"


	4. Chapter 4

I couldn't wait any longer to update! Haha A little gift for Eric fans ;)

…

The first emotion that Sookie registers is relief. She feels a huge weight literally lift off her shoulders. It's over, she thinks. Thank god.

She's no longer chained to a wall – in fact, she's lying in the middle of the most comfortable bed in the world. It's also the largest bed she's ever seen. Sookie thinks that it could fit four of her in it quite comfortably, without them even touching in the middle.

The cotton sheets feel expensive, cool and delicious against her skin… but that's when Sookie feels a wave of embarrassment. She's naked! She wonders what happened to her violet dress and how she came to be lying here, in this huge, glorious bed.

She turns over and lies on her back, revelling in the comfort, and takes in the rest of the room. It's light, airy and painted completely in the same fresh cream color as the sheets. The giant bed is actually a four-poster, with a soft gold canopy hanging over her head. Sookie doesn't pretend to know much about antiques, but she can tell from the gorgeous wood and design that it's both very old and very expensive.

There's no other furniture to give her a clue as to her location, just three white doors leading off the room in various directions. Sookie longs to explore, to see if this is just a different – albeit much nicer – kind of prison, but she seems to be stuck to the bed. Every muscle in her body screams in protest when she tries to move, reminding her of the very painful position she'd been forced into for several days before.

The door on the left wall opens quietly.

Sookie gasps because through the door walks the most beautiful man she has ever seen. Every muscle on his body is perfectly sculpted, from the broad shoulders to the V-line of his stomach, which dips below the towel he has casually wrapped around his hips. Sookie feels herself licking her lips, although she's not sure whether it's from embarrassment at the closeness of his body or a desire to taste his beautiful skin.

Even though his head is hidden by a second towel as he rubs his hair dry, Sookie instinctively knows who this perfect man is.

Eric.

Sookie clears her throat. "Where are we?"

Eric's blonde head emerges from under the towel and he's wearing his most alluring smirk – obviously feeling very pleased with himself for having glimpsed a naked Sookie. She remembers her lack of clothes and hurriedly draws up the soft sheets, blushing furiously.

He saunters towards her, like a lion stalking its prey. The smirk has grown even wider, as though he appreciates her blush as much as her body. Then he kneels on the edge of the bed, keeping at a respectful distance. Sookie feels disappointed for some reason. His smooth white skin is mesmerising and she can't form a coherent thought, let alone look away.

"We're in my bedroom." He replies.

"Your bedroom." Sookie repeats. "I'm in Eric Northman's bedroom. But how did I get here?"

In other circumstances, she might have laughed at the idea that he finally got her where he wanted. But she's completely shocked. She never even pictured Eric _having_ a bedroom. Or a house for that matter. And this wonderful, light, airy room is certainly not something she would expect to belong to a leather-wearing Viking. The man certainly has depth, she thinks in amazement. He never fails to surprise her.

"Don't worry Sookie," he says. She likes the way he says her name, all protective and possessive. "I've been good. Even though, it was very, _very_ hard." He smirks again, sexily looking down on her with lust-filled eyes, clearly amused by his innuendo.

Sookie feels the blush spreading up her neck again.

But Eric's gaze suddenly becomes serious. "I will always find you. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you," he murmurs, almost like a whisper. "Sookie…" he breathes her name again.

Then he's bounding forward, pouncing on her, pinning her down. She can feel his hard length pressing into her thigh. Despite herself and the pain in every inch of her body, Sookie moans and rubs her hips against him. His hard muscles and long (very long) erection are the most delicious feelings she's ever experienced. She wants this, she knows she does. All that separates her from release is one small towel and some tangled sheets. She wants to rip the layers away and pull him deep inside her in one long thrust. She feels a pulse begin to jump between her legs as she pictures herself doing just that.

When she opens her eyes again, she's faced with Eric's intense gaze, just inches from her face. With his hair wet from the shower and falling forward over his forehead, he looks so much softer than usual. His blue eyes are still fierce and dangerous, but there's also a lot of tenderness Sookie never knew existed inside him. He's clearly waiting for her to encourage him.

He bends his head down slightly and Sookie screws her eyes shut, wanting to feel every breath and every moment of their kiss. She arches her back and lifts herself up to meet him. The first kiss is light, like a feather, as their lips brush. But Sookie needs more. Her body's demanding it. She grabs the back of his head roughly and crushes her lips onto his, feeling all her despair and desperation escape through passion. The suddenness of her movement causes Eric to moan, low in his throat. He's so close to losing control.

So he moves his mouth away, exploring her neck and throat with his lips whilst his hands skim her body so lightly, it makes her ache. His cool fingers trace a pattern down her warm curves, teasingly circling her breasts and nipples, but not touching.

He moves down her body slowly, pulling the sheet away and using his teeth to nip and scrape. But Sookie is no longer embarrassed by her lack of clothes. Raising his head, Eric gives her a sly smirk and stares straight into her eyes for a second, leaving her breathless as his head and hands wander even lower. Then he finds her clit with his tongue and begins to make slow, sensuous circles. Sookie's back arches with pleasure. She pushes her hips into him and grabs the back of his head once more, tangling her fingers in his wet hair to bring more pressure.

A loud, scraping noise interrupts them. Sookie doesn't want to look away from Eric. She keeps her eyes screwed tight, prolonging the feeling for a moment longer. But the sound is too urgent.

When she opens her eyes, Sookie feels herself wake with a hard, horrible jolt.

There's no bed, no Eric, just a dark room. Her neck aches terribly where her head drooped over the collar when she fell asleep. The tangled sheets have been replaced by her dirty dress. Only one thing remains the same – she's dripping wet between her legs.

Great, she thinks, just great.

But the dream has given her something new to worry about. It was way more intense than before – and there had been genuine affection between them, she was sure of it. It had felt too real, almost as if it was a memory. Just one that hadn't happened yet. Now Sookie had a new fantasy to sustain her – Bill clearly wasn't coming to save her, but what if _Eric_ could help her?

Sookie is terribly confused. She tells herself that this is a man she hates, a man who tricked her and knowingly sent her into danger. But the dream is telling her something different. The Eric she sees in her sleep isn't the same man as the one she's known, that's very clear. What she can't figure out, though, is which one is the _real_ Eric. She wonders if the man who appears in her dreams is part of Eric, or just a figment of her imagination – a version of him _she _wants to see.

Lost in her thoughts, Sookie realises that the noise which so rudely disturbed her moment with Eric was, in fact, real.

The heavy steel door stands fully open for the first time. And in the doorframe she can see two figures. Her heart leaps as she realises one is a tall man. But she knows, just as she knew in the bedroom that it _was_ him, that this is not Eric playing hero. When he steps forward, she wonders how she could ever have mistaken such an average-looking (but tall and lean) guard for a perfect specimen like Eric.

A voice breaks the now awkward silence. It's high, petulant and spoilt. But somehow commands respect.

"Darling girl," the woman says. "Can you forgive me? I can't believe these imbeciles would treat you like this. You are a guest – not a prisoner. Please?"

She holds out her hand, gesturing to the guard to unlock Sookie. He's wearing leather gloves to protect him from the silver but fumbles rather, obviously nervous.

The woman snaps impatiently. "Useless. Bloody useless!"

Sookie is finally free to stand. But her legs won't support her – she's too weak from lack of food and water. The guard helps her stagger awkwardly forward.

In the light of the corridor, Sookie blinks uncomfortably and waits for eyes to adjust after days in the dark room.

The woman before her is a vision. Her red her is curled softly in a 20s dance hall style and her figure is draped casually in a very expensive – and highly inappropriate – floor-length pink silk gown, which clashes with her hair. The hand she is still holding out for Sookie is sheathed in an elbow-length glove and dips slightly at the wrist from the weight of an enormous diamond bracelet.

Sookie takes the hand cautiously, a little reluctant to touch anything so pretty when she's grubby but also wondering what on earth is going on.

"Who _are_ you?" Sookie asks.

The woman gives a bright laugh – one that sounds like it was invented by girls to make men swoon – and flashes her pearly white teeth. "Sophie-Anne. Pleased to meet you Miss Stackhouse. I'm the Vampire Queen of Louisiana."


End file.
